


Some Small Thing

by EA_Lakambini



Series: Orbital Resonance: GOC2020 [8]
Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Banter, Cute, Domestic, Fluff, Gardener Aziraphale (Good Omens), Gen, Gift Giving, Good Omens Celebration 2020, Nanny Crowley (Good Omens), Sweet
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-08
Updated: 2020-05-08
Packaged: 2021-03-03 04:22:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,265
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24068803
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EA_Lakambini/pseuds/EA_Lakambini
Summary: Warlock’s fifth birthday is coming up, and the ineffable godfathers go shopping for a birthday gift.
Relationships: Aziraphale & Crowley (Good Omens)
Series: Orbital Resonance: GOC2020 [8]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1725724
Comments: 2
Kudos: 24
Collections: Good Omens Celebration, Week 13: Banter





	Some Small Thing

**Author's Note:**

> My headcanon is that these two would still give gifts to Warlock even after they leave the Dowling residence because they are lovely and s o f t
> 
> Prompt: family.

“Crowley, I’m certain that a five-year-old has no need for Axe body spray.”

“Why not? The kid has to protect himself from the other kindergarteners, and this is the craziest smelling shit there is in the whole of Debenhams. Are you really going to send him off unarmed? Or would you prefer to teach him the old-fashioned way of smiting from on high?”

Aziraphale rolled his eyes and took the body spray from Crowley, neatly setting it back on the shelf. He headed for the escalator leading to the childrens’ toys section, Crowley scowling next to him. “I am sending him armed with the grace and blessing of the Almighty, and that shall be sufficient for the rest of his days,” Aziraphale replied, flicking off some almost-imperceptible dust from his waistcoat. It was nice to be dressed as he normally would be; Brother Francis’ overcoat was plenty comfortable, but there was something to be said about properly-fitting and well-pressed trousers, too. He figured Crowley was probably feeling the same, now that the demon didn’t have to wear such tight corsets or deal with Rover nipping at his heels, but he could be wrong, considering that the trousers Crowley wore today were nearly as tight as the corset.

Crowley looked over at Aziraphale, chuckling slightly. “I’m pretty sure it was not in the Almighty’s to-do list to bless the literal Antichrist on his birthday, angel,” the demon said as they got off the escalator and began wandering the aisles in the toys section. Crowley obviously skipped the aisle with Paddington Bear and Peter Rabbit, and started examining the action figures instead. Aziraphale went to the aisle carrying the doctor’s kits and tea sets, where Crowley eventually found him exclaiming happily over the Easy-Bake Oven.

“Aziraphale, really? We’re going to get him to learn how to make _cake?_ What, he has to be the one to bake it for his own birthday?”

“Cakes are scrumptious, my dear boy, and the process of baking it shall teach him to be industrious.”

“Yeah, sure, and the process of eating it shall teach him to be gluttonous.”

Aziraphale frowned at him, and reluctantly put the Easy-Bake Oven back on the shelf. “And what is it that you have there, o wily one?” he asked Crowley sarcastically, gesturing to the box the demon held in his hands. Crowley smartly flipped the box to show the angel the set of toy soldiers, World War II edition. “See, I’m being educational _and_ inclusive! So he’ll know how both his family’s continent and his current continent equally screwed up,” the demon said proudly.

Aziraphale shook his head. “That’s far too violent, and not to mention, a choking hazard.” Crowley grumbled something unintelligible and set the box of soldiers on the shelf next to the Easy-Bake Oven, not bothering to return it to the proper aisle.

The two continued going up and down the aisles together, slowly messing up the order of the toys as one selected an option that was quickly dismissed by the other. As the hours ticked by, a Wombles doll ended up in a pile with the baseball bats, a Jack-in-the-Box was left open and partially hidden behind the jump ropes, and a wooden train set was perched on top of containers of Silly Putty, among various other confusing configurations.

“Really, just _why_ do we have to get Warlock a birthday gift?” Crowley suddenly exclaimed, throwing up his hands in annoyance after Aziraphale rejected his selection of Legos (“Angel, even you have to like this, it’s going to teach him to build things! Like creation!” “Crowley, you _invented_ those. You know what happens when people step on them.”).

“It’s his _birthday_ , and we are part of the family’s estate; it’s only polite,” Aziraphale said primly. “Besides, it’s not like gift giving is restricted just to immediate members of the family, is it not? Extended family members will be bringing him gifts too – ” Aziraphale broke off his sentence as he saw Crowley suddenly still next to him, murmuring the word _family_ under his breath, as though it were something he didn’t quite understand. Then Crowley walked further down the aisle, and the moment passed.

“You know, I think getting him a gift together may not be such a good idea,” Crowley said slowly, tossing back the Legos next to a box of Fuzzy-Felt. “How about we each just get him our own thing? Y’know, more joy to go around, and all. Make it special.” Aziraphale fiddled with his pocket watch. “I don’t know, my dear,” he said anxiously. “Won’t that teach him to be greedy?”

Crowley rolled his eyes. “No, angel, it will allow him to experience an example of generosity.” At that, Aziraphale’s eyes softened slightly, and he gave the demon a quick nod. The two went off to separate aisles – Crowley eventually found what he wanted at the arts and crafts section, Aziraphale at the plush toys – and met up at exactly the same time at the check-out counter.

*~*~*~*~*

“Oh, Nanny, Brother Francis, how very sweet of you!” Mrs. Dowling exclaimed. “I ever so appreciate you both bringing something for our little boy, he had been looking forward so to opening some birthday gifts, but his father’s may not make it to Britain in time, so…” her voice trailed away and she bent down to smoothen out Warlock’s collar.

Nanny Ashtoreth said nothing, but Brother Francis smiled gently, and replied, “Oh, think nothing of it,” he waved a hand. “It’s just some small thing, took no time at all; dear Warlock is really like family to us both now, we simply _had_ to get something special for his birthday.” At that, the previously strained expression on Mrs. Dowling’s face softened into a genuine smile.

The child wriggled out of his mother’s grasp, and eagerly ran to grab the packages from Nanny. He hugged at Nanny’s knees. “Me loves Nanny! Me loves Bwuvver Fwancis!” Brother Francis looked over quickly at Nanny Ashtoreth, who was very pointedly not looking back at him, instead keeping her head lowered, scarlet curls tumbling over a shoulder and covering a bit of her profile. He could see just the slightest, softest smile gracing her lips.

“Now there you are, little hellspawn, this _very_ lovely one is from Nanny, and – oh well, if you must – this one is from Brother Francis, I suppose,” Nanny said sweetly, kneeling down to gently muss Warlock’s hair. She held a flat box wrapped in bright red, followed by a large decorative bag in white and gold. Next to her, Brother Francis wore a particularly bright toothy grin. Warlock crowed excitedly as he sat between the two, eagerly ripping through the paper and tissue (much to Nanny’s amusement and Brother’s chagrin). Discreetly, Mrs. Dowling snapped a quick photo – this would be a photo that she would give to Nanny some years later, and it would be a photo that would, on one fine day, be framed and displayed in a place of honor in a cottage by the sea.

Warlock wouldn’t really remember much from that fifth birthday celebration, as he had far more many interesting birthdays coming up – the eleventh would be particularly memorable – but there were still some memories that would remain. He would remember that sunny afternoon in the garden, when he had played with a little stuffed sword, and his chubby hands had been guided with an angel’s touch. And he would remember that evening, when he had been lulled to sleep under the faint light of glow-in-the-dark stars, beautifully arranged on the ceiling by a demon’s hand.

**Author's Note:**

> I honestly want all of their gift ideas hehehe (can you feel me trying to live vicariously)
> 
> Thanks for dropping by!


End file.
